Interview with the Devil
by emebalia
Summary: Sam just tries to do his job but Lucifer can't shut his cakehole. Set in season seven.


**Interview with the Devil**

Sam knew he should have let Dean do this interview as soon as he saw the white picked fence, the neatly cut lawn and the doormat with the "Blessed Coming In" and "Blessed Coming Out" written on it. The doorbell rang the tunes of some church song Sam couldn't place.

_When have you been to church the last time?_, Lucifer asked with a grin. _Not that He would actually listen or, you know, do something._

Sam ignored him.

"Mr. Marsh?" Sam asked the man peering through the crack the chain allowed the door to open. Sam hold up his FBI badge. "I'm Agent Smith. I'm here to ask you a few questions about your wife."

The man considered that for a second before he closed the door to remove the chain. Then the door swung open all the way and the man greeted Sam with a wide smile. It nearly reached his horn-rimmed glasses.

"I'm sorry." He said and grabbed Sam's hand. It felt like dough and was unpleasantly warm. "Usually my door is wide open for everybody but this reporters …" He trailed off with a sigh. "I'm praying for them." He added with a sincere look.

_That should teach them._ Lucifer nodded.

"Please, come in." Even at home Mr. Marsh wore a dress shirt with a sweater vest, pants with creases sharp like razors and shoes so polished he could use them as a mirror. Inconspicuously Sam rubbed his shoes at his calves to dust them off a bit while he followed Mr. Marsh to the living room.

"Please, make yourself comfortable, son." His voice was soft, more oily than velvet, and it sent shivers down Sam's spine.

Sam sat down on the edge of a sofa which looked new like it had been delivered yesterday but had been here probably the last twenty years.

"Coffee?" Mr. Marsh asked.

"No, thank you." He just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. Sam took a look around.

Over every door hung a crucifix and big paintings on the walls told of the righteous life the Marshs lived. The Crucifixion, the Sermon on the Mount and a lot more biblical scenes. The pillows covering the sofa and the armchairs were embroidered with aphorism mainly right out of the bible. The late Mrs. Marsh's handiwork.

_Well, didn't stop her from doing some not so righteous things, didn't it?_ Lucifer lounged in the armchair next to Mr. Marsh. Both looked expectantly at Sam.

This is hell, Sam thought and avoided to look at Lucifer who was clearly enjoying himself.

"Mr. Marsh, I'm sorry for your loss." Sam began.

_You know lying is a sin, right?_

"Thank you." In opposition to Sam Mr. Marsh meant what he said. "She's with God now."

_I wouldn't bet money on that._

Sam shot Lucifer a glare but he knew that wouldn't keep him from putting in his two cents. With his thumb Sam rubbed the scar in his hand but Lucifer didn't even bother to flicker, that bastard.

"Mr. Marsh, did you notice something strange about your wife in the last couple of days?" Sam made a general gesture. "Something out of the ordinary?"

"No." Mr. Marsh shook his head. "She was busy planning the summer picnic at our church. I hardly saw her the last week." For a second he was lost in memories. "I was concerned when she wasn't there for our bible group. She never missed that."

For the first time he really looked at Sam. Through his horn-rimmed glasses his watery eyes seemed huge.

"My son, have you let God in to your life?"

_Better not, could get a little crowded in here._

Sam choked. A doughy hand landed on his and patted him.

"With a job like yours." Mr. Marsh let go of his hand and Sam resisted the urge to rub it clean on one of the awful pillows. Maybe the one saying "Born to Live, Live for Jesus".

"You see so much evil." Mr. Marsh continued. "You have to have strong faith in God, my son."

_Yes Sam, where is your faith?_

"Your wife, Mr. Marsh." Sam tried to ignore both of them and to get back to the reason he was here for. The late and not so nice Mrs. Marsh. "Do you know what kept her from attending your bible group?"

Dean owes me for this, Sam decided and gritted his teeth.

"I thought she was with her sister but Margie hasn't seen her all day." Mr. Marsh shook his head. "I don't know where she was. Nobody has seen her. And then … she was found … dead … with that …" He broke up with a sob. Sam shifted in his seat not sure how to deal with the crying man.

_Buhu._ Lucifer mocked him by rubbing his eyes with his fists like a crying three-year-old.

But Mr. Marsh got a grip and wiped his tears with a handkerchief larger than some towels Sam had seen.

"Satan is real, you know son?" Mr. Marsh put the handkerchief away and looked at Sam with a sad smile. "He's everywhere around."

_Is he now._

"You think the devil made your wife do it?" That wasn't that far off, actually.

_Wasn't me._ Lucifer hold up his hands. _I was with you all the time._

"Satan tries to seduce us every day." Mr. Marsh said wisely while Lucifer gaped in fake shock and mouthed: Me?

"The devil waits for the slightest chance to slip into your mind, son." He reached for the bible he had on the side table, kissed it and pressed it to his chest while his eyes were closed for a silent prayer.

_Little late for that warning, isn't it?_

This wasn't leading to anything but a headache Sam decided and stood up.

"Thanks for your time, Mr. Marsh."

Hastily the man stood up as well and lead Sam back to the door.

Standing on the doormat which from this side told him "Blessed Coming Out" Sam just wanted to run. Maybe deck this guy first. But Mr. Marsh had one more advice for him.

"Remember, son. God loves you." Said with that psychotic wide grin and the doughy hand reached out for a goodby handshake which Sam ignored. Mumbling a goodby Sam bolted, leaving Mr. Marsh and Lucifer behind.

And God, he wished he could leave both of them behind on that doormat and the neatly cut lawn. Not such luck with Lucifer, though.

_I'm not so sure about that. You know, God loves you and all that crap. _Lucifer said doubtfully but then he beamed. _But hey, I like you._


End file.
